by Brett P. S.
I walk back over to the rope and grab hold, tugging it to test the tension. It’s good enough, but I still can’t understand why. We came all this way but he’s nowhere. I stare downward, contemplating the mechanics of it … and that’s when I see it. I hadn’t noticed before because of the disorienting fall, but a blood caked tracking chip rests in the muddy basin by my boots. The pain involved in removing it could hardly have been voluntary, but even still …
“H … Help … me …”
I whip around with my rifle ready to fire, only to see Stevenson hobbling along out of the dank corridor. He gets a few more steps before collapsing to the ground out of sheer exhaustion. I rush over, but the man is out cold. Still has a pulse … in fact, it’s strong considering. As I hoist him up, the cavern shakes with a quiet rumble.
“Sir, is everything alright?” a soldier exclaims.
“Yeah, get ready to pull us up.”
“You found him?” she yells.
“Yes.”
With a firm touch, I begin to fasten the rope around him, wrapping it around his upper torso and underneath his armpits. A few knots here will do the trick. He might be wearing a mark later, though I doubt he’ll be complaining much. Finishing the process, I tug down hard and let him drop as low as it’ll go. They got the signal. The scientist rises slowly in a jerked manner.
Staring back into the depths of the cave … or perhaps the facility, I begin to notice two things. The first of which is a red light flashing above the stasis pod I unearthed. Its brightness barely shines underneath the muck, but the material is translucent enough to catch its slight glowing rhythm. The second is a trickle of smoke-like gas seeping through the pod near the base.
Stevenson is nearly halfway up when I hear a loud clicking sound as the pod flies open, letting the alien body flop onto the mud. It’s humanoid. Definitely. The form has a massively elongated skull, with scales swaying like hair covering the whole body. The creature is nude with short stubby legs and long arms. I really hope it’s dead.
“We’ve got him.” I want to say something, but the sight of it is too captivating. I’m left speechless as I hear the slap of the rope against the wall. “Sir? What’s happening down there?”
Amazing. It starts to move … first, the little fingers … then the arms. The life form tilts its head to stare me down with little black eyes as it struggles to find footing. It moans as it wrestles with muscles that ache from years of stasis. It growls as it approaches. I think … for a second … how amazing it would be to communicate with it. Every instinct in my body tells me the damn thing doesn’t want to communicate. I know I shouldn’t … but I …
“Sorry, pal.”
Pulling the trigger makes the rifle hum as the fusion core glows with energy. It fires a single shot to the arm, but the creature shrugs it off. It gets closer … this time faster. I aim for one of the legs. The icicle bursts through, ripping away flesh and bone as the creature falls down, but it keeps clawing its way toward me. It’s mindless.
One last shot. The thing nearly two meters away, I hold the barrel poised at its skull and fire, splitting it clean in half and spattering brain matter across the cave in the shape of a cone. The blood is red, from what I can tell. It’s dead … from what I can tell.
“I’m coming up!”
Act II
Buried Memories
Chapter VI
Survivor
The joy of waiting to do real research is something of a bother. While Hammond and his men pry at Stevenson’s half-dead body on the other side of these double doors, I’m reserved to sit and wait before I can organize a team to learn something about our situation.
It still baffles me how his tracking chip fell out. Well, “fell” is a soft term. He’d have to rip the thing after carving into his flesh with some kind of crude instrument I can hardly imagine. What gets me even more is why he would have done it. From the look on Hammond’s face some hour or so ago, for once, we’re on an even playing field intellectually.
Hammond swings the lobby doors open, rushing to me with his face covered in a mask. He pulls it down, revealing his aging stubble.
“Major, come in and see this.”
I follow him through to something of a laboratory. Of course, I know it’s the med bay, but not all manner of tubes and cutting instruments lend themselves well to the idea of healing. It’s more like something out of a horror story. We walk over to an operating table closer to the center of the room. Stevenson’s body lay strung out across it, unconscious and with his arms and legs strapped down with light restraints. I assume if he got up in a panic that Hammond wouldn’t want him to injure himself.
“Looks half alive,” I mention.
“Far from it, Major,” Hammond replies with an excited tone he tries to keep down. “Aside from being unconscious, this man is in superb physical condition. Heart rate, oxygen levels, blood flow … it’s all amazing.”
“What do you mean?”
“This is not the man who left us at dusk. This is … someone else.”
Well, “Could something have happened … to make this change?”
He sighs, looking away from me as he mutters, “Lord knows what. It’s a pretty good hunch something in that facility caused this.”
About that …
“I can lead the way,” I say, “but it’s dangerous.”
“Unfortunately, we will need someone qualified to observe and measure.”
“I understand.”
Hammond takes a deep breath and rubs his fingers across his chin. Tough decisions will sometimes make a man pause to seek clarity.
“Still, this matter is surprisingly secondary,” he says. “I can only send you two of my team. Use them wisely.”
While Hammond remains lost in thought, I notice Stevenson’s eyelids twitch. They go this way and that, like in REM sleep … that is before they begin to crack open a little.
“Hey, is that normal?” I ask.
“Is what normal?” He stares down at the man who was once one of our crew and his eyes grow wide with excitement. “Good lord! This could be it people!”
The man’s eyes flash open in the next instant. He takes one look at me and twists his head over to Hammond. The next few seconds happen so fast. With an animalistic scream, he breaks through the restraints as if they were cotton balls and grabs Hammond by the neck, chocking the life right out of him in seconds. I plant a fist right upside his skull. The monster releases his grip and falls back a bit, but he turns to me … black soulless eyes … just like the alien.
My rifle … I’m still carrying it … got to … But before I can even react, the force of a car hits my chest. The room goes black. Nothing. Not even a sound.
A blur of light enters my sight as I struggle to open my eyes. Voices … screams and the scent of blood trickle into my senses. With all my strength, I look up to see a red smeared figure standing a few feet away. My … my gun … I see it. The thing dropped a few inches away. Carefully, I inch my arm over. I grab the butt and drag it over nice and slowly. Reaching over to the power switch, I turn it on, but the loud hum of a powering fusion generator causes it to take notice. It twitches its head over and sees me. A few seconds more. Dammit, just a few.
It leaps … and I pull the trigger.
Chapter VII
Change of Plans
The next thing I know, I'm lying down, same as before, except the kink in my back is missing somehow. My eyes open, and I look around with keen vision. The IV filter jabbed into my wrist explains a whole lot of that. One of the attendants in what I assume is the medical bay stood outside arm’s reach. I motion for her to come by.
“How long?” I ask.
“Excuse me?” she says. “Oh, I get it. Give me a second, and I'll unhook you.”
An IV needle runs firmly beneath my flesh, and I forgot there are several electrodes stuck to my chest and forehead. The medic
al budget spared no expense, and the team here is giving no quarter.
As she reaches over to pull out the main thing, I notice a strange mark on her wrist. I recall the time I awoke from stasis, though it's not as if I remember it all too well. Hell, I can't even remember the woman's face.
“You were there, weren't you?”
As if in reaction, she pauses right after the comment, and pulls the needle out. It's fast, and it burns like the sun.
“I don't want to talk about it,” she says.
Honestly, I wouldn't have noticed under normal circumstances. The black bruise reduced to a minor yellowing around a tiny area. She healed quickly. I save her the time and pull off the sensors myself.
“Where's Hammond?”
She points toward a door at the far end of the medical bay. “One room down. He's in intensive care.”
That's enough information for me. I slide off the clean white bed and head over, barging though the door as it swings back to a close behind. Hammond lies in a cot with many more of the same devices hooked up along with a few strange additions. The steady beep and whiz of medical devices and a respirator are the only sounds that fill the room. A doctor, second chief of staff, monitors him closely as she hovers over the bedspread.
“What's the news?” I ask.
“I think he'll make it, Major ... but ... it won't be the same.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don't misunderstand, Major,” she sighs. “I'm glad you acted when you did, but his neck is nearly shattered. Blake is paralyzed from the neck down.”
“Can he talk?”
“He should be able to. He's been slipping in and out of consciousness, so it's a gamble if you want to wait.”
“Can I have a few minutes alone?”
She pauses for a second and replies, “Sure. I'll be right outside.”
She walks out. I won't do anything to personally endanger Hammond, but the doctor must be somewhat attached to him. I could detect a hint of a sneer as she walked past. I imagine the rest of the crew might harbor similar feelings. After all, I was the one who brought Stevenson back.
“You there, Hammond?”
I wait for a response, but nothing comes of it ... except the sound of a respirator.
“Fine, I'll just talk then.”
His silence, I take a nod of approval.
“I don't claim to understand everything that's happening here, but one thing I do know is something ... someone ... was here first.”
I lean in closer, my lips to Hammond's ears as I whisper, “I'm not going to stand for a shared Earth.”
This time, I wait a little longer to catch a little something. A nod, a gust of wind, some kind of simple sign, but again, nothing.
“That's all I have to say, Hammond. I'm going back ... back to make sure these ... things ... don't become a nuisance.”
Chapter VIII
Sabotage
Thick brush waves past my face as we delve deeper into the forest. For a moment, going in, I thought I might recognize any sort of familiar ground, but the soil is barely visible and the trees all look the same. It's as infested as a jungle, the shrubs and bushes making good on their attempt to fill in for the missing wildlife. About the only thing keeping them in line is the roots. Damn things can't breed too close together or else one of them dies.
“Marcus,” I shout toward the rear, “how close are we?”
“We've got less than a quarter kilometer due south,” he answers.
Haphazardly, I lift my rifle up closer to where I can see it. The smell of super cooled ice vapors still pours from the barrel. It's not something one easily forgets.
“Be prepared,” I tell them. “There may be more of those things.”
As dusk finally fades, night falls on the green planet. The ebony starred sky is something beautiful, barely visible through the canopy, but it's there nonetheless. A blanket of something warm.
“What was that?” one of the scientists exclaims.
“Quiet!”
I heard it too, though I paid it little thought. No groans. Just a twig snapping off in the distance. I press my rifle straight up to my cheekbones, looking for what it could be that...
“There you are ...”
Some few meters off, a shambling half-rotten corpse of what once was an alien lurks through the forest basin. Steadily, I aim at its skull, a somewhat larger target than a human head, but I'm not complaining. With the whiz of fusion power, the rifle sends an ice cube clear through it, shattering the brain into pieces.
“Nice shot, Major,” Rebecca congratulates me.
The same man who was startled originally stammers, “Is ... is it dead?”
Ignoring him, “Marcus, I can eyeball our destination from here. Switch to motion sensors.”
“I'll let you know if anything comes up.”
Afterward, we come across a familiar territory. A clearing. A giant hole bored in the ground. The memories keep flowing back ... memories of what the Earth used to be. I won't have it. Not like this.
“This is it, sir.”
Good, then, “Secure a rope to this tree. I'll be the first one down.”
As my body descends into the pit, I notice there isn't much different from my last encounter. None of the other pods appears opened. That first one must have been a glitch ... though that doesn't explain the lurking aliens. Hmm ... maybe ... there are other...
“What should we be looking for, Major?” the male scientist interrupts.
“Well, a hard drive would be a start. If this is a stasis facility, there should be something equivalent to a computer nearby.”
He nods, “We'll start looking.”
“Don't go too far. Marcus and Rebecca, keep your eyes open.”
“Sir!”
I don't like this. There weren't any before, so why now? Is it possible that other facilities will have come online? Even if that were the case, the next question would have to be ... how many? How far reaching? Is anywhere safe from these ... creatures? Ha, I guess I'll be doing the team a favor after all. Saving lives is my job after all.
“Major, I've found it.”
After only a minute or two of hands wiping off caked mud, one of them has found a case with dozens of flashing lights on it. They flicker like candles, likely a result of old wiring.
“Looks techie enough to me,” I say.
“The compartment is rusted shut,” she stammers, trying to wedge it open.
“Stand back,” Rebecca motions, thereby ramming the case with the butt of her rifle.
The front gate falls off its hinges, giving way to something active inside. Dozens of wires and console boxes. We definitely hit something good this time. I only hope the folks back at the Newton can make something of this data.
“So many pieces ...”
“Take them all. Rebecca, give her your pack.”
Rebecca hoists her pack over and plops it on the muddy floor as the two scientists try their hardest to cram each device into a limited space. Leave it to them to be creative, because they actually manage, much to my surprise.
Well, now that it’s finished, “Head back to the surface. I'll be the last one up.”
Each one of them climbs the rope. My own men take the lead to ensure a radius of protection. We killed several on our way here. Damn things must be waking up from other facilities, because there isn't any way half-functioning corpses could climb out of this hole.
After the science team makes their way up, backpack and all, I pull myself to the surface, leaving my shadow festering in that dark dank pit. My officers are carefully surveying the perimeter, cautious for any stragglers.
As luck would have it, not a single soul is actually looking over in my direction. I reach over to my side and pull out a plasma grenade. The design is archaic. Pull the pin. Drop it down. Walk away. As I head toward my team, I count the seconds. One ... two ... three. Moments later, bolts
of plasma and fire-carved rock spit upward in a scorched inferno.
While one of the scientists ducks, the other charges at me, shouting, “The hell was that?”
Solemnly, I reply, “It was too dangerous to leave this facility intact.”
“Hammond is going to hear about this!”
“I'll tell him myself.”
Act III
Last Hope
Chapter IX
Unseen Enemies
The forests were unusually silent along the way back. I figured we'd come across another creature or two. Interesting. Well, at any rate, the ship is still intact. No phantoms to speak of here.
I grab the handle and swing open the door barring the hangar from the large hallway shaft that connects it to the rest of the Newton. As I step through into the elongated compartment, I see the entrance to the medical bay near the far right. The tech lab is on the far left. Barracks are closer and the bridge is at the end.
It's impossible for a ship this size to house this many people for any extended period, and I'm afraid the social order may soon begin to deteriorate. After all, out here ... I'm not an officer. I'm a man with a gun.
“You two need to try and decipher that pile of junk.”
“Hammond needs to hear about what you did first!”
“I said I'll ...”
“Hear about what?” comes a familiar voice.
I blink a few times as the man comes back from beyond the grave and rolls himself out in a wheel chair. Hammond smiles at me from across the corridor with a cheerful expression, beard and all.
“The hell?” I stammer. “You're ...”
“I'm feeling much better now, actually,” he says.
“But ... how?”
“We have quite a bit to talk about, Major.”
He wheels himself back inside the tech lab, expecting me to follow. Of course, I'll oblige, though I get the feeling for some reason this won't be a cheerful conversation.
In the tech lab, the science team busily works on chemical samples and poking strange instruments into the cadaver of Stevenson. I'm surprised he's still of importance, but when I glance down at Hammond, I see him stare across and utter a bit of a sigh in response.
“I assume,” he says, “you're wondering how a man who had his neck pulverized could recover from irreparable spinal damage and paralysis.”